London Gate Crash
here goes
i am putting up in central london at a friend’s place. days have been spent shooting emails and perfecting my resume, knowing that at the end of the day i’ll meet a random person in a restaurant/bar/bythestreets/outsidemydoor that’ll give me the job (that.i.want.).
but for productivity sake i have submit the self to delusional means of job hunting.
the festive season puts no one in mood to talk about work, let alone employment. so i’m taking a chill pill to embrace the led lights that lid up X’mas and the remnants of an ending year.
this city has been welcoming me well, london is a place where i find comfort in familiarity - food and old friends. this is also the place where I find people of a spectrum of different culture and nationalities binded by similar dreams and ideals. it’s good to be able to c.o.m.m.u.n.i.cate.
i’m not an expat anymore, i’m not a foreigner anymore, here everybody is. and to illustrate a simple example of a reality check:
i walked into a bar last night to gate crash a couchsurfing (network of international travelers) party, but i did not take down any number. unlike in istanbul, i’d just walk into a cafe and find the most international looking crowd (slash english speaking) and chances are that’s where the party is. so yes, without any number and a vague memory of who the host of the party is, me and a friend ended up with our small corner chatting the night away. i can’t possibly go up to each table and make an enquiry. everybody’s a foreigner, everybody speaks english.
doosh.
so there, i am glad to be here.
